Heptadecagon

The tears trickled down her face and her lip quivered as she looked up at me. "But I wanted to wear the tights," Melina said. "I wanted to wear the thin tights." I rolled my eyes and sighed. It has been almost two weeks since I've gone running. I've stopped in an attempt to let my body heal. In the process, though, my mind has suffered and my ability to keep my patience has waned. I had to walk away, or I'd likely yell at the sweet child before me. I grabbed her hand and tugged it lightly, pulling her into my bedroom and toward the master bathroom. Once my feet hit the cool tile floor, I said, "Use the potty. And get dressed." I won't lie, my sharp voice revealed my irritation, my exasperation. It held enough of both to cause Tim to notice. "What's wrong?" he said. And when I told him, I could have sworn that I heard his eyes roll. This battle we wage sometimes with our fourth child is trivial. I know that. I realize...